A Parent's Lament
by OppsieDasi
Summary: 'We don't have a word for parents who have lost their children, because we can't find a word to express their pain.' Follow Colleen as we see her lose her family. Rated T for minor swearing, non-graphic character 'death', and inappropriate humour. (apparently, there's no Sam Holt character, so just imagine it's there)


**[A/N] So... the layout was rather... bad. horrible. worst thing ever. So, hopefully it should be fixed now..**

* * *

"Please, Mom! Let me do this!" Katie begged, "I have to know, _we_ have to know!"

I stared into my daughter's eyes. Determination flicked in her eyes. It was the same one my, presumably late, husband bore, those many years ago. The eyes that I fell in love with. I knew, that even if I said no, she would find a way to do it anyway. That's what he would have done, and both of the kids got the same fiery determination he had.

"Give me the papers," I sighed, signalling Katie to hand me the papers. She leapt into my arms, thanking me endlessly. "Yeah yeah," I chuckle, kissing my daughter's forehead, "just give me the papers before I change my mind,"

Katie quickly hands me the papers. Pidge Gunderson.

What a lame name.

I sign the papers as 'Kate Gunderson' in the frilliest writing possible.

When I've finished signing the papers, I find my daughter reading a book. Relaxing. She was going to be so screwed when she gets to the Garrison. She'll give herself away, and I'd still be widowed and without both my children. Katie would be distraught and-

I ring up my brother.

"Hi, Danny. I need some tips,"

...

Katie looks surprised when I dump a plastic bag on her. I probably should have at least told her I was here, but there's no time.

"We have 3 weeks to teach you how to be a guy," I say, "I called up uncle Daniel. He gave me some tips, and we have some work to do,"

"Mum, I'll be fine. I'm just there to attend classes and get some inside information," Katie said, looking as if she was going to go back to her book.

"You're going to get kicked out on your first day of school," she looked up from her book, "we both want to know they're alive. You need to take this seriously,"

There was an awkward silence between us. Finally, though, she sighed, "what are we going to start on?"

...

"Do you have the scissors?"

"Yes,"

"Hidden in your socks?"

"Yes,"

"And the binders?"

"Yes,"

"And remember-"

"Don't wear them for more than 8 hours and no exercising in them," Katie interrupted. That stunned me a bit.

"Well, do you have-"

"All of the pads and tampons we could find. Yes. I have them all," Katie chuckled dryly, "you're more worried than me,"

"You're right. We need to find out what happened. I don't want you blowing your chance," I said, wiping a bit of dirt off her face.

"I'll be fine Mom," Katie smiled, "I'll call you when I get there,"

"You better," the taxi outside honks. I would drop her off, but I couldn't afford the day off. I couldn't trust any of the lecturers to take the lesson I had planned for my students. I pulled her into a head. She held on tight.

"I'll miss you," She muffled into my shoulder.

"I'll miss you too," I said. I pulled away and kissed her forehead.

I was ready.

I waved her off until the yellow car was no longer in sight.

The quiet settled into the house. The rooms that were often filled with life - children, Sam, robots, computers - never felt colder.

It suddenly dawned on me that, I was truly alone.

* * *

Colleen Holt does not stress or worry.

That's what I keep telling myself. It had been a few months since I sent Katie off to Garrison under the alias Pidge Gunderson. She tried to message me every day. Sometimes she would forget, but I wouldn't stress.

But it's been a month. I've texted her first. I've called her. I've left voice messages. I sent her a letter through the mail. Eventually, the messages on my phone stopped going through. I can't just march down there and demand to see my daughter - or, well, son. Commander Iverson knows me too well.

I decide to call my sibling, Taylor. I needed to raid their costume store.

...

Next time my daughter decides to get banned from Garrison and that the only option is to pose as a guy, I need to talk to her about backstories and names.

First, Pidge Gunderson. It's such a stupid name. I know she wanted to keep the nickname her brother gave her, but she could have picked a different last name at least.

Second, Kate Gunderson was apparently, your average blonde airhead. We ended up calling Josie, the youngest out of us, to give me some tips on how to act dumb.

Don't be specific. Don't use science words. Don't impress anyone, like you normally would.

Twist hair and have a generally vague expression.

Get out of there as soon as possible.

Apparently, I suck at acting dumb. I wasn't staying long though. I had a mission.

I hailed a cab and rode to Garrison. I practised my 'accent' with the cab driver. He seemed to have bought it. Hopefully, Iverson will.

When I stepped out of the cab, I saw a woman in front of me. After thanking the driver and cursing my heels, I followed after her.

It took a few wobbling steps, but I caught up with her.

"So, you don't seem to be a student," I said.

"I'm not. My dipshit brother hasn't been responding to my parent's texts. They're worried," the woman said. Thank god she wasn't a mother. She was too beautiful.

"What a cowinky dink," I said, wincing as memories of my dorky husband surfaced, "my son hasn't been replying either,"

"Maybe my parents were right to be worried," she said. I didn't give her a response, as otherwise, I might spill into Colleen when I'm supposed to be Kate.

"I'm Veronica McClain," She said, as we reached the help desk. No one was there - typical.

"Kate Gunderson," I said, shaking her hand.

"That's an odd last name," Veronica said, tilting her head. Oh no. She's getting suspicious.

"Really? I never realised," I tilted my head and twirled the hair on the wig. Once again, my daughter sucks at names.

"How can I help you, ladies?" The woman behind the desk suddenly appears.

"We would like to know if Lance McClain and Pidge Gunderson was here," Veronica said.

I let out a not-so-subtle gasp, "that's my son's name,"

"Lance talks about him all the time," Veronica says.

She's going to get an earful when I next hear from her. She never told me about a Lance. Although, most of our discussions are on her progress.

"I'll get Commander Iverson," the woman said, before hurrying away. As she walked past I saw a familiar face. I've seen that face before.

When I came to ask about any information about my family's misson, or asking for the belongings my son and husband had. The whole room was spinning. My nails dug into the palms on my hands and forced myself to breathe.

I must have been imagining things. They can't be dead. She can't be dead. She's fine. Maybe she's having trouble in class? Maybe not subject wise, but she was never a social person - just like her parents. She's fine.

"Kate, are you ok?" Veronica asked.

Forgetting about my accent, I blurted out, "They're dead,"

"Kate, I'm sure they're fine," Veronica said. Before I could cover up my mistake another set of feet were heard. They weren't the woman's from before, and they ween't Iverson's.

Good god, not another person.

"Veronica, how are you?" The woman said. Veronica moved her attention for me to a woman she had apparently met before.

"Rose, what a wonderful surprise. This is Pidge's mother, Kate," Veronica introduced me. I dug my nails further into my palms.

"Pidge's mother?" Rose questioned.

"Pidge's mother." Veronica nodded. All I could do as watch the conversation unfold.

"She's a bit…"

"Yeah. You'd expect..."

"Yeah. But that doesn't matter. How are you darling?"

Ignoring the mind reading, I uttered a small "good,"

"Kate thinks that our sons are dead," Veronica says. That traitor.

"I'm sure they've just gotten their phones taken away," Rose said.

"You're right," I said.

"Thank you," Veronica said.

"They're probably missing in space and Iverson is covering it up and will say that they're dead, so he can continue whatever evil plan-"

"Hello, ladies," Iverson's booming voice rung throughout the otherwise empty hallway.

"Commander Iverson. Where are our sons?" Rose asked. Despite her 5' stature, she looked like a force to be reckoned with. I was standing behind her and I had the sudden urge to give her whatever she wanted.

"Maybe you would like to come into my office," he said, gesturing to the room beside us.

The two women looked worried.

They should be.

...

When I knew I was alone, I let myself cry. How could I attend my 'sons' funeral?

Oh for fuck's sake, it wasn't even it a funeral. It was a memorial. Because there was nobody. I would never see my daughter again, and no one but me would even know she was gone. Like father like daughter. She was gone. And I was alone. I never even got to say a proper goodbye. I would never get to walk her down the aisle or see her _really_ fall in love. I would never see her graduate or get her first job. I can't face the other women. I don't want to be right, right now. I don't want to blow my cover, despite the fact Katie was dead. I owed that much to her. I coughed and tried to breathe through my tears. Maybe this was karma. Or maybe I'm so bad at dealing with my family's death. I'm blaming pseudoscience. It didn't change the fact that I was crying on the floor of a bathroom. Alone.

How pathetic.

* * *

We have a word for children who have lost their parents. And we have a word for a spouse who has lost their significant other.

But, we don't have a word for parents who have lost their children, because we can't find a word to express their pain.

As everyone filed out of the church, I was left with three pictures. Two of them were of boys I never met, but I knew meant a lot to the other families and I had heard some wonderful stories about them.

Another one was of my daughter. Who I would never see again. Who everyone thought was a boy. Who was probably dancing in the stars with my husband and son.

My cheeks were still wet and my makeup ruined. But I didn't care.

There was no one left I had to be strong for.

There was no one left who would see me.

* * *

Apparently, the loss of all of my family wasn't a good enough excuse to take a mental health day. But I powered through it.

Sure, occasionally I have days where I don't want to get out of bed, and how sometimes I look at something - like a pen from the nearby planetarium - and break down crying, but I'm getting through it.

A knock at the door distracts me from my thoughts. I look down at the student's work I was supposed to be marking. Jonathan Smith will just have to wait until I get my pizza.

I unlock the door, and staring right at me is that same brown eyes that still held that determination. The eyes that started it all. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot. While the clothes he wore were different, he still wore that same grey scarf. Both of them looked a little burnt, but I wasn't much better. I was wearing odd socks with my bright pink ugg boots. A hastily thrown on grey jacket that barely covered my obnoxious science pun teeshirt and track pants.

But, just like she said, she did it.

Sam was home.


End file.
